It was said that for every heart there was its intended soul mate and its ill-fated thorn. Hadiza wondered, looking out from her balcony facing the mountain peaks, which she had been to Cullen, and what Cullen and Samson were to her. She had never been the center of attention in this manner, and she had no other women with which to compare notes. She wondered which thread tied her seemingly inextricably to these two men, so alike in their ideals, and yet one man's ideals were tarnished by trauma while other man's ideals were painted over with the perfect whiteness of despair.
The sun was beginning to set when Josephine came for her.
"Inquisitor?" Her voice, which normally carried like a sweet note that could melt a heart of stone, sounded small in the vastness of the bedchamber. Hadiza didn't move, and did not look over her shoulder to speak.
"Just Hadiza in here, Lady Montilyet," she said with a heavy sigh that put a slump in her shoulders, "just me." Josephine's brows knit in genuine concern and she made her way to Hadiza's side, standing with her hands clasped, looking so much like the nobility she was born to. Hadiza did not look at her.
"We…we received word that you found Corypheus," Josephine said carefully, "the Commander proposed we convene in the war room this evening to discuss a plan of action." At that, Hadiza hazarded a slow glance toward Josephine and the ambassador saw the weariness in her expression. Josephine's lips turned down in a slight frown of concern, and Hadiza turned her gaze back to the mountains which were now stained in burnished gold and orange by the approaching sunset.
"Very well," she said dully, "I suppose it can't wait, can it?" She smiled, the corners of her lips trembling with the effort. Josephine didn't have the steel to pull Hadiza out of melancholy.
"No," she said sadly, "I'm afraid it can't."
The war room was colder, in the wake of all that happened. Hadiza herself had not bothered to change out of her mage robes, and filed in behind Josephine, looking as weary as before. She stifled a yawn behind her hand, and did not even spare a glance at Cullen. Very well, for he kept his face perfectly expressionless. Morrigan had returned from her mysterious errand after two months abroad, and looked smug.
"You found what you were looking for, then?" Hadiza asked her and Morrigan's smile was slow and sly, her head tilting slightly.
"Yes," her voice was sultry, like rubbing rich velvet on the senses, "I can match Corypheus' dragon. The rest is up to you, Inquisitor." Hadiza gave that smile again, but with less trembling. Inquisitor. Right, that was she, wasn't it? In this room she was merely the Inquisitor.
Not the woman who had broken Cullen Rutherford's heart.
"Good, because Corypheus is going to be doing something at the Temple of Sacred Ashes tomorrow at moonrise and I'd rather he not succeed." She finally opted to glance around the room at each of the advisors in turn.
"Most of our forces are still in the Arbor Wilds," Cullen said neutrally, "the bulk of them won't be able to make it here in time to march. If Corypheus intends to do anything, he'll have the advantage."
Hadiza blinked, slow and methodical.
"No, I don't think so," she said quietly, "I don't think this confrontation will be one of two armies meeting on the battlefield."
"Inquisitor," Leliana said, "you can't mean to face Corypheus alone. That would be suicide." Josephine said nothing. Tactics in battle and strategy were not her strong suit, but she saw what was happening and wanted to say something.
"Inquisitor, I know you're…exhausted." She said, "The search for Corypheus taxed your strength considerably. Perhaps you should get some rest and we shall reconvene in the morning to plan a strategy with clearer heads." At that, Cullen frowned.
"The time for planning is long past, Lady Josephine," he said, "if we wait any longer, we'll lose what little tactical advantage we have." Hadiza met his gaze sharply, eyes flashing briefly at the sentiment. Cullen's face was completely expressionless, but his eyes narrowed slightly and Hadiza tore her gaze away.
"He's right." She said smoothly, "I should likely assemble my team and head there right now. If I can beat Corypheus before he…does whatever he does, then I'll have served my true purpose, yes?"
"And if you die before you have a chance to strike," Leliana said a little forcefully, "then your sacrifice will have been for nothing."
Hadiza threw up her hands, exasperated with everything. Everything.
"Then what," she stressed the word with a snap to her tone, "would you all have me do? I either die tonight or I die tomorrow night, it matters precious little to my nemesis or me. We must face each other all the same. I am the only tactical advantage left. So, advisors, fucking advise me."
There was no answer. Hadiza sighed.
"Corypheus mentioned a sacrifice being done at moonrise tomorrow," she said, "he will not be prepared for me to stop him, and he doesn't know that we've a match for his dragon. This will make the fight somewhat easier. I'll assemble my team, and we'll make for the Temple of Sacred Ashes tomorrow. Questions?"
Of that, there were none. Hadiza pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Then we're adjourned. Make your final preparations. We'll convene in the morning to finalize everything." The advisors filed out, Morrigan first, then Leliana, and then Josephine.
Cullen lingered. Hadiza was looking over the map, already plotting a route through Ferelden…as he'd taught her.
"Hadiza," Cullen's voice was soft, but there was steel in his tone beneath the gentility, "I…"
"We've much work to do, Commander," Hadiza said decisively, her tone sharp, "and your tactical advantage needs rest, as do you." Cullen came up short, cheeks going red. He bowed stiffly.
"As you will, Inquisitor." He said coolly, and then left her alone in the war room. For some reason, that rankled her nerves, and she turned, waiting for the amount of time it would take him to leave so she didn't have to cross paths with him, and then she left too.
Samson hadn't seen her for hours, and hadn't received any word. The dinner bell had rung scant minutes ago, and he had been pacing his cell, wondering, waiting, and actually fucking worried. He shouldn't have left her alone with Cullen; the man was wroth with her and outright despised Samson, and as strong as Hadiza was, Samson knew that beneath that armor was a soft and compassionate heart. Cullen was always ruthless when it came to his own back in Kirkwall. He roughed up recruits if they stepped out of line, and turned a blind eye to the abuses going on right in front of him. To Samson, Cullen was as much a disgrace to the Order as he was. Samson may have fed the remaining Templars red lyrium but Cullen did more damage in Kirkwall on the blue than Samson ever could on the red.
And Hadiza was a brilliant mage, willing to push her limits for the mission. She understood what it took to win if need be, and Samson did too. Had it come to it, he would have struck her down in a quick and decisive blow. Not out of any sense of duty, either. But because he—
The door to his cell opened, and a guard came bearing a message for him from the Inquisitor. And then he had leave to go. Samson knew the route by heart to the scrying chamber, and when he arrived at the door, he knocked once, and then let himself in, coming up short when he saw Hadiza.
"Shit," he said softly, "I thought you were…you alright?" Upon closer inspection it had been clear she had been crying. Samson shut the door behind him, but Hadiza didn't move. She hesitated.
"I'm not alright," she said, "I have to go and possibly die tomorrow." And then she laughed, but it was so full of sadness Samson couldn't bring himself to do anything but give her a thin smile in return. She crossed the room, which was more like an old battlefield given what had happened. The magic in the room was dead, the scrying circle partially burned away from Corypheus' attempt to breach Skyhold's ancient defenses, and from Samson's subsequent smite. The sigils were powerless, and the room seemed a great deal plainer for it.
"Isn't that what you fucking signed up for?" Samson asked with a chuckle, "Inquisitor and all that." Hadiza pursed her lips.
"I just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. This whole entire adventure has been a series of happenstance moments." She muttered. Samson watched her, and saw a little bit of that fire return to her now that they were speaking again. She laughed, then, pushing that errant lock of hair out of her face, only to have it fall back.
This time, Samson reached up and gently tucked the lock of hair behind her ear.
"You did good," he told her, "going up against Corypheus like that. He's like no mage I've ever seen. Like standing next to a storm." He smiled at her fondly and she smiled back.
"Well," she replied, "had you not been there he might have…done much worse. So thanks." Samson grunted and shrugged.
"First time I ever heard a mage be thankful for being silenced but I'll take what I can get, eh?" Hadiza's hand splayed across his chest. For a man whose days were numbered, his heartbeat was unusually steady and strong. Perhaps it was the lyrium, or perhaps it was just her imagination, but she found the rhythm soothing in a way she didn't think she could.
"Food's getting' cold." Samson reminded her and she laughed softly.
"I'm not hungry." She murmured. Samson frowned.
"You're not going into a fuckin' fight on an empty stomach, Hadiza." He growled. Hadiza frowned, leaned up, and kissed him firmly on the mouth. She swallowed the noise he made, and then pulled away. Samson opened his mouth and then closed it.
"Shit," he said, "Shit. Hadiza, you're…what do you want from me?" Hadiza blinked.
"You don't know?" She asked him. Samson laughed harshly, running his fingers through his hair.
"What? You want to fuck? Is that it? Hadiza, I'm your prisoner—I admit that—you beat me fair and square in a duel. But I'm not a sodding charity case." Hadiza's hand went to her mouth, genuinely shocked. She looked down.
"No," she whispered, "you're not. That's not what I…I didn't mean to insult you, Samson. I just…" Samson narrowed his eyes. Ah shit, was she about to cry? Her voice was warbling, and when she looked up her eyes were wet.
Ah, shit.
"Hadiza…" Samson wanted to hold her, but decided against it. If they were going to be anything more than this, then it would be on mutual terms, "…you just left Cullen this morning, didn't you?"
Hadiza nodded. Samson sighed.
"And now you're summoning me this evening to do what? You're not even in the right frame of mind to…I wouldn't do that to you. If I'm what you want, then I need you in the clear when you make the decision, alright?" Samson frowned. Hadiza drew in a shuddering breath. She knew he was right, and she'd overstepped her bounds. Had she not told Aja this very thing would happen if she moved too soon? What then should she do? Samson, motioned for her to come forward, and she did. In an awkward and uncharacteristic display of affection, he drew her into a hug.
"What if I don't come back?" Hadiza asked in a small voice. Samson growled, pushing her away just enough to look down at her.
"Don't fuckin' ice yourself out before the fight, for fuck's sake. Hadiza you've kicked more ass in the past year than most people ever get to do in their entire lives. You're coming back, princess. You're coming back because I want to finish this talk when you do." He leaned in, gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead.
"Now dry your eyes, princess, and eat up. You've got to thrash Corypheus tomorrow, and there's no better fuel to fuck up someone's day than a full stomach."
Hadiza laughed, and this time, there was life in it, and Samson smiled back at her.